Catastrophe and Occasional Soliloquies
by Natsu Naito
Summary: Sterek - Soon to be a number of one shots dedicated to Stiles and Derek and their odd moments together and thoughts of each other. Will contain romance, fluff, and possible angst. (Forever marked is 'in-progress', until I grow tired of them, which is most likely never.)
1. Chapter 1

**author's note**: If any of you read my Yuffentine fics, you'll know I'm doing this 100 drabble thing. Rather than just uploading all the Sterek ones seperately, I'll just make this story a conglomeration of tons of Sterek oneshots, most likely not related to one another. (Unless you request a continuation, of course.) So, here's the first one! Enjoy!

* * *

**Love**

* * *

How is it that something so feared and so far from solid could bring forth a warmth that filled every single limb? And even worse - the one causing the feeling was none other than a certain Stiles Stilinski.

Now, the question became just how stupid a werewolf could be.

It had grown to the point that he couldn't bear to stand in the same room as him; the frustration at the fact that this emotion had spurred forth was showing clearly. The worse was probably when he had opened the door to see the human (who had come over at Scott's call) and had proceeded to slam the door in his face. Not exactly the most mature act, but it had given Derek a few moments to escape to his room.

And, not only that, but even in his irritation and utter denial of everything pertaining to Stiles, the cheesy part that had somehow remained often surfaced. This led to a variety of objects placed in his locker and outside his house - and a shocked father, who happened to come home to see a large and frightening plushie that had what looked like blood stains on it, almost as if it had been made directly from a dead animal.

Just because he had a cheesy mindset didn't mean he knew how to act on those thoughts.

This cycle of rudeness and odd gifts went on for several days, weeks, until Stiles happened to come home early from a study session with Scott. He hadn't wanted to watch the make out session that happened when Allison came around, which led to him pulling up just as Derek was placing something on the porch.

"Dude - what are you even doing?" Shutting his door with enough force that the slam echoed momentarily, the teen stomped up to the other, pushing him away to get a good view of whatever was on his porch this time. If Derek hadn't been so surprised, maybe he would have ran for it, but he was frozen in place by the warmth and simple nerves that Stiles brought forth.

There, on the steps, was a cheesy letter and card. Or, what would have been cheesy, if the werewolf hadn't seen the cheesiness in it and ripped the petals off of the rose, leaving thorns and the stem, or if the card hadn't been rather wrinkled. Inside, it said: 'I hate you because you make me love you.'

"I should go-" Derek was cut off as the teen turned to him, a frustrated scowl on his face.

"You leave all those creepy gifts and slam things in my face because you love me?"

With nothing better to say, the werewolf nodded, watching the other warily; but no amount of defense could have prepared him for the sudden kiss that was so quickly followed by a rough punch.

"Dumbass wolf!" And yet the words were said with a tone of affection that made it clear enough he felt quite the same.


	2. Chapter 2

**High School!Derek and Stiles**

* * *

"Dude, watch it."

With just a slight movement of his head and the spot of red in his peripheral, Derek could tell the disgruntled voice had come from none other than the sarcastic Stiles himself. Really, he head known before catching sight of him - after so long around the other, the werewolf could have been able to notice the scent of him from quite the distance.

But what had the issue been today? There was always some kind of problem, always shifting between something that would frustrate Derek to a point where slamming his companion against the wall and ripping him to shreds was a very heavily preferred option, or something that made his lips quirk in amusement and he'd merely walk away chuckling.

With a quirk of his brow, he gave a fairly disinterested smirk. "Yes?"

"You nearly ran into me. I don't need any gross werewolf smell on me today; I have a date."

If not for Derek's keen senses and certainty in those senses, he may have doubted the full-of-himself air that coated the crimson-hooded teen, the slight teasing and humor that could be found in that often sarcastic voice. He was tempted to smack it off his face, but, rather, he decided on an idea that seemed altogether more intriguing.

It turns out that the day had been one of shoving him against the wall, and things were, without a doubt, ripped - namely, clothing. (And Derek merely smirked when Stiles complained about the fact that he'd never be getting the smell off of him, and his comic books were still waiting at home, very offended that he had stood them up.)


	3. Chapter 3

**author's note**: my best friend suggested this, I hope you all like it!

* * *

AU: Babysitting

* * *

Standing in the center of an absolute disaster was Derek Hale, brows furrowed and glaring distastefully at the cause of the mess. No words would come to his tongue, only dancing angrily in the back of his throat as he tried to determine the best recourse to such misbehavior.

Never in the previous nights of babysitting other children had he ever run into an issue as terribly prevalent as this one; of course, maybe he had approached the situation with more ease, believing that the child of the Sheriff's son would actually be properly trained. Apparently, that was too much to ask for.

"Stiles." Tone gruff and firm, he crossed his arms and turned his expression into one as threatening as possible, but the entire effort only afforded him a glance from the boy before he jumped onto the couch, mimicking him in a way that was extraordinarily frustrating. Growling deep in his chest, the werewolf stepped forward, arms uncrossing only so his fist could grasp onto the other's shirt before the male slipped away again. "Do you even have a real name?"

Struggling to get the older teens hand off of his shirt, Stiles grit his teeth in frustration. "Anyone ever teach you not to grab onto little boys?"

And that was merely the beginning of the night - it was followed with intense popcorn fights, a declaration of hero vs. villain (in which, ironically, Stiles declared Derek to be the wolfman), and much more rough housing. Only when the boy began to grow tired did the hellish night begin to wane, allowing the babysitter to tidy up the place, occasionally tossing a glare at the groggy human as if to make sure he wasn't wrecking any more havoc.

Dusting his hands off on his jeans the next morning, he was just taking his pay and leaving with a professional farewell to the Sheriff as Stiles, who clearly just woke up, came barrelling down the stairs, gripping onto the railing at the very bottom, a wicked grin on his face.

"Dad! You should make this guy the official babysitter."


	4. Chapter 4

**author's note**: in honor of slash madness, which i hope sterek wins, i wrote this~! because my baby sourwolf needs to win every now and then. ;n;

* * *

**Competition**

* * *

"Ha!"

Sitting close on Stile's bed and staring at the television screen, Derek had leapt up and shoved a fist into the air, very nearly howling with laughter, so loud that the teen had to shush him and tug him back onto the bed, hoping he would calm himself. At the same time, he was also struggling between the joy at seeing his sourwolf so happy and the frustration that he had lost - again.

"Dude, you're gonna wake up my dad if you keep cheering like that. Seriously, it's just a game."

"That opinion was much different when we first started and you beat me," he pointed out, voice soaked in a smugness that was unfortunately attractive on him. Rolling his eyes, Stiles pushed his shoulder and started the next race, urging Princess Peach to hurry up; only to get hit by a turtle from Bowser, and wolfy chortles filled the air again.

Glaring over at him, Stiles bit his lip, eyes flicking from the werewolf to the screen, fingers drumming against the back of his controller as he considered his next plan of attack. As his eyes set just a few moments longer on Derek, the plan formulated and he lunged, tackling the older man onto the bed. Hands pressed into the comforter and lanky body over the muscular one of the shifter beneath, he gave a pleased grin.

"Guess no one wins this round, eh?"

Stiles' back hit the mattress with a soft thump, Derek's elbows against the bed so they were even closer to each other. "An Alpha always wins."

* * *

_an; if you liked it, or even if you hated it but love sterek, go to the "ultimate slash madness championship round 2013"! (you should be able to google it and find it!)_


End file.
